[Afrikaans Poem with English Translation]
Ek onthou jou toe die spiese naby my was,
En die swaarde het uit my bloed gedrink.
Maar ek wou die swaarde soen,
Soos hulle gegrom het soos jou helder glimlag.
Ek is dronk van die rooiwyn van jou liefde,
So van so 'n dronkaard.
Moenie die hart vra oor die geheim van my hart nie,
Want liefde binne ons... kan nie met die tong uitgespreek word nie.
English Translation
I remember you when the spears were near me,
and the swords drank from my blood.
But I wanted to kiss the swords,
as they wave like your bright smile.
I am drunk on the red wine of your love,
so from such a drunkard.
Don't ask the heart about the secret of my love,
because love within us... cannot be expressed with the tongue.
* Dear PoetrySoup members. I wrote an Afrikaans poem and I understand that many of you do not understand the Afrikaans language and I wrote the English Translation of this poem. Enjoy reading my poem.
Afrikaaps
Die oggend is nat
hul lop op hul gat skool toe
die klokkie het kla gelui
is omdat hulle nie
tuissie gedoen nie
lag hulle uit
Afrikaans Translation
Dit het gereen
die kinders loop stadig skool toe
alhoewel die skool klok gelui het.
Hulle het nie hul huiswerk gedoen nie.
Ons lag vir hulle.
English Translation
It has rained
the morning is wet
school kids are slowly
trampling to school
though the school bell
has rung.
They have not completed
their homework.
We are laughing at them.
[Poet’s Note : The direct translation of the second line in the Afrikaaps version would be : “They are walking on their buttocks to skool.”
The direct translation of the last line in the Afrikaaps version would be :
“Laugh at them” or “make fun of them” or
“laugh until they leave.”
Notice how more colourful, jiving and idiomatic the Afrikaaps version is. Because of its origin in Cape Slavery lingo, Afrikaaps attempts to make light of daily life.This was a slave coping mechanism. ]
_______________
(Sappho and Leuceus drunk,fighting over who invented the Stanza)
Lesbos howls with song and mgosi tonight,
Leuceus thumbs the table-claims my Stanza his,
I toss my hair,sip the sqo,my daughter lightning-
Let Ogun decide!
He stutters of meters,I of love divine,
He waves his laptop,I smash my Zamalek beer glass to silence
The gods choke at their peptic ulcers-
Mami Wata takes sides.
Tomorrow the'll call me fallen,sinner,muse of rain,
But in their shame,they'll still steal my rhythm,
He'll drown in envy's cup,Ill wake to babalazi
Makoti sing my song
Explanation of words
mgosi-gossip
sqo-as in traditional beer
Zamalek: Black Label Carling beer
Ogun: The god of war
mami wata:mother of water is a symbol of beauty and that's all men want to hear
babalazi-a massive hangover
makoti- ''Maak ons tee'' in Afrikaans meaning ''Make us tea''.This is what will happen to school dropouts;just think about the fate of this one: a young married woman supervised by a grumpy old woman who complaints about anything under the son.
ONE:
Is our Near East in Asia? Are Israelis "Asians"?
People from India are called South Asians
The same folk in Caribbean are East Indians!
Fancy that: West Indians being called East Indians
STOP: DON'T BLAME COLUMBUS
He simply said, Indios! You say South Asians
But I don't see North Asians, East Asian, or West Asians!
Two (2):
Now, Arabs are classed WHITE in USA
These South Asians are not
I guess Near East is WEST enough
Unless you are bad, bad Saddam - cast out
I means Indians being called anything but!
What gives?
The labelling police got me bad
(At John's Hopkins University way back when
I was a "meek Hindu." I did sue @ JHU)
Jesus made me a "meek" CHRIST-ian
Following the Meek of the Middle East
Holy Land's Meek Moses, man of God
THREE (3)
IN A NUTSHELL
This South Asian is really South African
A nutty situation: I'm not African African
Here they don't use ASIAN, but "Indian South African"
Yet if Whites can be "Afrikaner," why cant I?
I speak Afrikaans
Even pray when i evangelize, in daardie Taal!
Dankie Here, in die Naam can Die Vader, Seun en Heilige Gees amen
N. Hawthorne encouraged us to do anything, something, (heroic?) even though life brings huge discouragement: "Tell me not, in mournful numbers, that life is but an empty dream ..." PSALM OF LIFE
I had to pen something like poetry today
It's World Poetry day, they say (internet ads)
Yet today is over, on its way, where we "stay"*
In South Africa. No internet on other phone
By chance I tried this (MTN service), won
A reprieve, a respite, an extension to the day
A list of best poems: Poe's Raven, Sonnet 18
By the bard (Shall I compare thee to a summers day?)
Elizabeth Barrett Browning's love poem
And Nathaniel Hawthorne's PSALM OF LIFE
So my work - brief, bearing light - is done
And off I run ... In donker** Suid Africa again
* STAY has US connotations with cohabitation and vacation. In RSA, it is used for "live" (as in, Where do you live/stay now?")
** "Donker' is dark or darkness, in Afrikaans. I used it because of loadshedding: our notoriety for electricity cuts that has business & people in "revolt" here.
Where the hefty lumps of fat?
Eyes strain through kaleidoscopic beams
As he takes in the scene.
Frayed Lonely Planet clasped tightly
Knuckles whitening.
'a breeding ground for one of the largest mammals on the face of the planet'
he recalls feverishly
clickbait sigh
To his dismay...
a garden of kelp legs swaying with the tide of "Afrikaans is dood, Afrikaans is groot".
hole-ridden threads giving glimpses of body murals to long-forlorned deities and bugs bunny.
six shots and one dump later
across the hazy, salty coat of cover...
a sighting...
reeks of threat-level status
a show will ensue
as he fishes for that bag of glue.
It was on the 16th of June 1976
When they took a decision to fight
To fight for their rights as learners
The sang their songs
Asking for their freedom
It was the young of 1976
I can hear their voices when they say
"to hell with Afrikaans"
I can hear the gunshots in my mind
That gunshots that took away their lives
I can see their blood in their white shirts
The blood of the innocent souls
Souls that were fighting for their rights
They were the youth of 1976
The youth full of life
The youth full of energy
The youth full of ambitions
But they were killed
Killed for their own rights
I
In a land of crime, pets too are killed
A goose was struck by an upset Ouma
I saw it in a fenced yard, life bleeding ...
It came close to home, with Kuiken
II
Kuiken is Afrikaans for baby chicken
But my name for my pet is Kaalnek
Her variety, subspecies, unfeathered neck
She learned to sleep in trees, after month1
III
The next day, her freedom ended (by me)
Not cat food, victim of domesticated cats!
In her cage (hok) she recovers from a wound
That made me cringe: skin on head, out!
IV
No cat, dog, or combination got Kaalnek
She is with her half-brother now, 'locked'
Though more lives than cats, I dont exaggerate
But my hero and I will not tempt fate
An unanswered, Hallelujah
Our soul says, yes!
My soul says, yes!
Leluya, Leluya
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Haleluta, Haleluta
Hallelujah
Haleluy, Haleluy
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Alhamd Lilaa, Alhamd Lilaa
Hallelujah O’ Glory
Hallelujah
Halleiuja, Hallejuja
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Halleiuja
Hallelujah
An unanswered, Hallelujah
Our soul says, yes!
My soul says, yes!
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
The highest spoken praise
To the Lord Our God we serve
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Spoken in order seen Spanish
French
Swahili
Arabic
German
Dutch
Irish
Afrikaans
3/2/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2022©
I
Now nearing that age of no hair, & more
No hair on head, more hair in ears & nose
I do a daily discipline of Matthew 6: 9-13
Then a Psalm, before a recorded sermon
In my youth, girls not God, got attention
II
When I greet kids on way to school
and adults off to do or find work
I say, "n gesieente dag, hallelujah" -
In Afrikaans, Dutch-turned African,
Widely used in The Cape, more here
In Newtown, mixed-race township
Each day is like Sunday: hello-hallelujah
Plus when I do prayer workshops when
requested - we pray post- breakfast
Till lunch break, at least till noon ...
But daily, the kids say. "Dankie Jesus, amen,"
As I grant tiny requests for a morsel of victual
III
Jesus alerted us: look to prayer quality
In the praying heart, not quaint quantity
My mum past away in 2003, she wrote this hymn that year in our Home
Language (Afrikaans) I tried to translate it in a poem.
I heard Your voice.
When You call, come to Thee.
With My blood I will set you free.
I heard Your call, Lord.
Here am I, at the cross, I am lost.
But now I know, I am at home.
I will come with all my weaknesses.
You provide me, strength and,
Cleanse me from all my sins.
Safe me, time and time again.
It’s only You, that can complete me,
The work You begin.
With Your grace I can reconcile,
So that darkness do not win.
die briesie van herlewing kom saam met u besoek
daar is 'n hindernis van byna 500 jaar wat ons suiwerheid geskei het
in velkleur, godsdiens en verhoudings
ons is van wortels gekastreer en gevoer met
godsdienstige ywer, gierigheid,
en wrede verkragting van ons voorgeslag
vrees nie die seë wat God stilgemaak het nie
die wind het gedreun van gehuil
of die son kom nooit op vir rus nie
the breeze of revival comes with your visit
there's a barrier of almost 500 years that separated our purity
in skin tone, religion and relations
we've been castrated from roots and fed with
religious zealotry, greed,
and brutal rape of our ancestry
fear not the seas God stilled
the wind muffled from howling
or the sun never rising for rest
For a friend from CT
Die reptiel vrou
Het my alweer geflous
Met my gedeel, haarself ontbloot,
en toe
Die bitter gif gespoeg
Dit vloei uit my bors uit, deur my are
Verander my bloed - haar bloed
Word swart, taai, en koud
Soos haar hart
***
The reptile woman
Has fooled me again
Shared with me, exposed herself
and then
Spat out the bitter venom
It flows out of my chest, through my veins
Changes my blood - her blood
Becomes black, sticky, and cold
Like her heart
I assembled all my fear
embraced every question
adjusted my attitude
until it made sense
130720111311
*logika is the Afrikaans word for logic*
EDIBLE MUSIC
The garlics are on grand piano in the corner,
Playing alone because of their halitosis.
After making each other’s mouth water,
Clever lemons blowing their trumpets by osmosis.
Onions on sad violins making each other cry.
Mushrooms working in the dark but giving it a try.
Near the open window, beans - small but cute :
Those classic wind instruments , the musical fruit.
Latin rumba from Caracas with coconut maracas.
French grapes can-can in chorus;
Smiling bananas can’t-can’t, but just enjoy the scene.
Tangos with an Argentine tangerine.
Mangos mounting melodies on drums in Afrikaans
Peas piping on piccolos for an Italian folk dance
Rushing polka dots in a Russian borsch whirl.
Oyster shell castanets for a Spanish flamenco girl.
Asparagus dessed in ballet shoes always on tips,
And of course as always, Rose shaking her hips.
All rhythmic foot-tapping fruit
Forever looking for a new recruit.
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